


Peaches & Cream

by fannyvonfabulus



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Beefy Bucky Barnes, Bottom Steve Rogers, Daddy Bucky, Daddy Kink, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Stripper!Steve, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Stucky - Freeform, Top Bucky Barnes, Veteran!Bucky, shrinkyclinks, twink!Steve Rogers, unbeta'd - we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25031215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannyvonfabulus/pseuds/fannyvonfabulus
Summary: Steve is a rollerskating, skinny twink who works in Peaches & Cream.Bucky can't sleep.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 66
Kudos: 338





	Peaches & Cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the1918](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the1918/gifts), [howdoyousleep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howdoyousleep/gifts), [HaniTrash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaniTrash/gifts).



> This is for Lynne & K for keeping us all fed and our crops watered during these trying times with their service to the Stucky fandom. Screaming at you in the tags on tumblr didn't seem like enough so here, have my first ever Stucky work as a thank you love letter <3
> 
> I haven't decided yet if this will become a multiple chapter work or an AU series. Come yell at me about it in the comments or on the tumbles: fishcustardandclintbarton

Bucky doesn’t know why he’s here if he’s honest, it just sort of happened. He can’t fucking sleep and he’s taken to wandering the streets of Brooklyn in the middle of the night rather than face the screaming and the smell of blood every time he closes his eyes and tries to sleep. He takes cat naps during the day now instead, and it’s easier to doze when the sun pours through the windows of his shitty apartment whilst he’s sprawled on his equally shitty couch. He’s exhausted and jittery from all the coffee and sugary food he’s consumed tonight, but he can’t face going back to his place and pacing all night waiting for the faint tendrils of the morning light to start creeping in around the edges of his world. His therapist says that it’ll be like this for a little while before it gets better. He’s on a cocktail of different meds for his brain, and then a different lot for his arm, and all of them together are fucking him up. He knows it’ll all even out in a week or so, but he’s starting to wonder if he can wait that long. He can feel the darkness crawling under his skin, so near the surface but only ever coming out when he’s trying to sleep. He's haunted by what happened in Afghanistan and the phantom of his missing arm. The prosthetic is amazing, but the whole left side of him aches, like a dull, background hum. When he closes his eyes, he’s reliving what happened to him for those months that he was taken from the world, so he just doesn’t. He knows he can’t carry on as he is, knows it’s making everything worse, but for now it’s all he can do to feel like he still has some damn control.

So that’s how he ended up at Peaches & Cream, a shitty strip club on the outskirts of the Brooklyn, propping himself up at the bar and nursing the same scotch that he ordered over an hour ago. He probably won’t even drink it as he doesn’t like the way it mixes with his meds, but it feels comforting to hold something while he gets lost in his head. The palace isn't much to write home about. It's dark and stinks of cigar smoke and desperation, the walls painted a deep red and neon uplighters bathing everything is a dull, red glow. It's all the usual strip club cliches rolled into one, including the slightly sticky floors, the red vinyl of the booth seating, and the bead curtains that lead to private rooms behind the scenes. It's seedy, but Bucky just wants to sit somewhere other than a park bench until they kick him out and he has to go home. Plus, the guy behind the bar is leaving him alone rather than trying to make small talk, so he’s going to stay a while.

What he didn’t expect was _him._

He’s like every single one of Bucky’s wet dreams and all his Christmases rolled into one beautiful, slutty twink package. Slim, with a mess of dirty blond hair and sinfully full lips, eyelashes for days, and an ass that Bucky wants to write poetry about: round, pert and begging to be fucked. The kid can’t be any older than 21 Bucky thinks, and he’s wearing the smallest pair of Daisy Duke’s that Bucky has ever seen on a guy, and a white, sleeveless crop top that says ‘Princess’ across it in pink. There’s a lot of smooth, golden skin on show, and Bucky takes in the long, lean legs tucked into almost knee length pink and white striped socks and dear god, is he wearing _roller skates?_ Bucky can see black eyeliner and there’s definitely lip gloss and it makes his lips look spit slick and plush. He’s skating his way around the tables that surround the stage, stopping at each one to lean suggestively into whoever is sat there, smiling coyly and Jesus, he’s chewing bubble gum too, blowing big, pink circles every now and then. Bucky’s sure it’s to draw attention straight to that gorgeous mouth and it’s _definitely_ working because he doesn’t know where to look first. Then Blondie is turning in the direction of the bar and he spots Bucky, big kohl lined eyes widening as they settle on his big frame and a pink tongue snakes out to lick at those full lips. Before Bucky can turn away from being caught staring, Blondie is pushing off the table he was leaning over and gliding towards Bucky. And the closer he gets, the more perfect Bucky thinks he is. It’s when he gets within arms reach that Bucky notices Blondie’s eyes are as blue as a clear, spring day, the eyeliner making them seem all the more striking. He wants to drown in them for the rest of time, and they’re fixed on his own wide form. Now that Blondie is so close, the size difference between them is even more striking and it’s a good job that Bucky is sitting down because his legs have just turned to jelly. He’s always had a size kink, but Blondie is something else. His waist is so tiny that Bucky is pretty sure he would get his fingers to meet at the front _and_ the back if he put both his hands around him, and that just…. _does_ things to him. He wants to sweep this beautiful twink up, throw him over his shoulder and steal him away to do unspeakable things to him. 

And now Blondie is sidling up to Bucky, leaning back with his elbows on the bar so that it pushes his hips forward and out. It also lifts his crop top up higher and Bucky gets a tantalizing hint of a dusky pink nipple before he manages to drag his eyes up to Blondie’s face. Those blue, blue eyes are heavy lidded and looking up at him through the longest lashes that Bucky has ever seen, and a lazy smirk on those gorgeous plump lips.

Bucky is so fucked.

**.oOo.**

It’s been a slow night and Steve is tired and bored. He’s not sure what he expected from a Tuesday night, but it wasn’t a practically empty club. He knows he’s not going to get much in tips tonight, but he’s already here so he may as well stay. If it gets any quieter, he can always ask Nat and Jess to show him some more moves on the pole. He’s not a dancer, not by any means, and no-one would pay to see his skinny ass up on stage anyway, but pole dancing has done amazing things for what little muscle and tone he has. Plus, it keeps him nice and flexible, and he’s been learning how to use the pole when he’s wearing his skates, which is a skill he’s pretty damn proud of. 

Mostly though, Steve works the tables and serves drinks. Peaches & Cream caters for all genders and sexualities, and a large chunk of the clientele are gay men who are into twinks, so Steve does damn well looking like he does. At 26, he’s probably pushing the top age limit for being considered a twink, but he still looks a lot younger thanks to Shuri introducing him to a rigorous skincare regime all those years ago. So he keeps himself in shape, always remembers his sunscreen and works out when he can, and the money keeps coming in. In fact, he’s done so well that he’s been able to buy his place in Brooklyn Heights. After his Ma died, he’d struggled with the mortgage until Nat had convinced him to come to work with her at the club. That was 5 years ago and he hasn’t looked back. He owns his own apartment, he pays his bills and his taxes, he eats good food, and he has a handsome sum in his savings. And when he doesn’t want to buy his own designer clothes and expensive jewelry, he has a few Sugar Daddies on speed dial who are more than happy to do it for him. 

Steve is perfectly happy with his life in all but the love department. Looking for a partner who is OK with him doing what he does for a living is hard. Hell, it’s beyond hard, it’s practically impossible. He knows that if he wanted to be a sugar baby full time, any of his daddies would jump at the chance, but Steve doesn’t want to be a kept man, not with someone he doesn’t love. And therein lies the problem, because despite seeing the seedy underbelly of human nature on a daily basis by working in a strip club, Steve is a hopeless romantic. He’s always believed in true love and that a handsome prince will one day come and sweep him off his feet, and no amount of seeing cheating husbands with their mistresses under the red lights of the club will ever change that. One day, Steve’s Prince Charming will come and they’ll ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after forever and ever.

Steve doesn’t expect that his Prince Charming would be a big, beefy brunet with a prosthetic arm sitting at the bar of the club who looks about 5 seconds away from either falling asleep or bolting through the door and never looking back.

Steve’s breath catches in his throat when he sees the guy at the bar, and his mouth goes try as he takes in the insanely broad shoulders that taper down into an ass that fills a pair of Levis like heaven on earth. And those thighs, J _esus fucking H Christ_ , those _thighs_ …. Steve has flashes of his own thighs being forced wide and open by them whilst Big & Beefy pounds into him. He imagines being pulled down to the couch to straddle those thighs whilst he gets kissed to within an inch of his life, and big, warm hands holding onto his slim waist. Steve wants to run his fingers through the mess of shoulder length hair that looks like the softest he’s ever touched. 

And then Big & Beefy turns around and Steve’s heart stops. He is _breathtaking_. That long, brunet hair frames a face that could stop traffic and cheekbones that could cut glass. There’s a few days worth of stubble on his chin and jaw, but as Steve starts to glide towards the mystery man, drawn to him like a magnet, it's the eyes that have him captivated. They’re darting all over the club, like he’s assessing any threats, but when they do settle on Steve, it feels like he’s finally being seen, really seen. He can’t decide if those beautiful eyes are grey or if they’re blue, but he thinks he wants them to be looking at him always. The closer Steve gets to Big & Beefy, the less those eyes flit around until they settle on him completely as he skates over slowly. Once he reaches the bar, he turns his back to it and slides in as close to the brunet as he dares, looking up at him through his lashes like he knows a lot of guys like. They stare at each other for a few long minutes, Steve’s heart pounding at the thought of this beautiful man not being into guys at all before he takes the lead and breaks the silence with a breathy:

“Hi _Daddy_ …”

**Author's Note:**

> So? How was my first attempt at Stucky? Did i fuck it up terribly?! Please don't hate me...


End file.
